


Oh, To Be So Loved

by CaptainSwank



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Bad Touch Chancellor Ardyn Izunia, Clone Sex, Drugged Sex, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, implied ot4 - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:48:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22186630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainSwank/pseuds/CaptainSwank
Summary: From the FFXV Kink Meme for the following prompt:"Prompto/Clone!Prompto, Love Yourself. Prompto has some self-loathing issues. Ardyn just wants to help the poor boy get over them, and what a better way to love yourself than fucking yourself.+The clone is completely under Ardyns control++ Ardyn gives them an aphrodisiac to get them started+++ Ardyn watches100+ Ardyn joins in."I interpreted this prompt as narrated by Ardyn. If the prompter mean it unironically... I am so very, very sorry.
Relationships: Prompto Argentum/Ardyn Izunia, Prompto Argentum/Prompto Argentum
Comments: 8
Kudos: 72





	Oh, To Be So Loved

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is about non-consensual, drugged sex. If you know this sort of thing will cause you harm to read I would ask you to please consider giving it a pass.

It’s the feel of a sharp needle sliding free from his neck that slides him sickeningly into consciousness. He can only cry out quietly and flinch as all of his senses snap on at once. _The ache in the bridge of his nose_ _—_ _the throb of the bruises on his arms_ _— the sting on his wrist—_

His wrists shackled above his head. A man peering down into his face.

“Wh—?” he tries to ask, an all-encompassing syllable. There’s a whole lot he’s not so clear on right now but he’ll take whatever information Ardyn Izunia’s gonna give him.

“Oh no no _no,_ dear boy, not to worry,” Ardyn mutters casually into his ear, raising the syringe in his hand with a flourish. “Simply _nothing_ about which to trouble your pretty little head.” To accentuate those last three words, Ardyn taps lightly against Prompto’s hair with the needle, and he recoils as effectively as he can for a guy all strung up on a cross. Ardyn turns his back to him and saunters to the edge of his blurred vision. He places the needle down on a tray with a soft and gentle _click._

When Ardyn twirls back around again Prompto’s insides clench until he sees that he’s empty handed. Instead those hands are raised as if in greeting, and Ardyn inclines his head to match the gesture.

“Welcome!” he says, with what’s technically a smile. “I’d like to extend my warmest greetings to the first guest at my little party!” He sounds genuinely delighted, so this is gonna go really great. 

“Well that’s super nice of you and everything,” Prompto says, coughing a little bit around the pain in his throat. “But your party really kind of blows and I have a _way_ better one to be at right now.” If he stays strong, he knows he can do this. He’s gotten this far, and if he can hold out _just_ a little longer, he’s sure the others will find him soon. Because they’re definitely coming to get him. And hey! Maybe if he keeps Ardyn talking he can learn a thing or two and gain some information that’d be useful to Noct.

“Oh, but sweetheart,” Ardyn begins wistfully, moving all up into Prompto’s space. He turns his head to the side because that’s all he can do to move away. “Our little soirée hasn’t even begun!” He thrusts his face right up to Prompto’s, who tries his best to turn back and face Ardyn. “ _Not all of my guests have even arrived_.” His voice is low and dark and dripping and Prompto feels his heart go cold as ice. 

Prompto knows he’s a coward. While his bonds hold him fast he’s trembling against them and his heart’s going a million miles per minute. But what’s kept him going so far is the knowledge that at least this is happening to him— at least _he’s_ the one Ardyn’s set his sights on, for now. At least it’s not Gladio, who’s free to use his whole self to protect his prince right now in a way he surely never could. And his heart’s gone from ice to fire because he’s so glad it’s not Ignis, who’s suffered way more than anybody should have already. And Noct— well, thank the freakin’ gods it’s him here and not Noctis. And not only that, Prompto’s out of their way so they’ll be able to get all the hard stuff done more easily. So this is like the best possible outcome! Man, he’s doing so well at thinking positively, which he’s been working so hard at lately. Or he was, but now that Ardyn’s put the idea into him that somebody else is going to join them here, he feels his guts curdle with newfound terror.

There’s a beat, and Ardyn raises an eyebrow while his eyes dart back and forth. Prompto gets to have a split second of confusion before he hears the metal door open behind Ardyn. His body blocks Prompto’s view, though, so he can’t see who’s come through it. But he does see Ardyn roll his eyes and sigh.

“Late!” Ardyn chides dramatically. “Not even remotely on cue,” he sighs, stepping away to clear Prompto’s line of sight. He should be relieved: he doesn’t see Gladio, or Ignis, or Noctis. 

What he sees is himself.

He doesn’t manage to stifle a little cry— one of alarm and confusion and the whole mess inside him. 

“Oh, do you like him?” Ardyn asks with enthusiasm, stepping up to the other Prompto and throwing a genial arm around its shoulder. “I just _had_ to snag a little souvenir from dear Verstael, a little something by which to remember him, you understand.” Ardyn reaches up to pinch the cheek of the thing that has his face, which he follows up with a gentle little slap. It responds with a vacant-eyed little smile and Prompto thinks maybe he’s gonna be sick. “Excellent work, excellent work, really,” he continues, leading the new Prompto up to face the old one. 

This time Ardyn reaches out to grasp Prompto by his chin, a gesture that burns in its familiarity. “The spitting image of the old man, the two of you are, wouldn’t you say? And how lovely to have a keepsake after you’ve destroyed him.” Prompto tries to struggle away but Ardyn tightens his grip. “Perfect,” he says, looking Prompto in the eyes. “So pretty and perfect.” Prompto goes red and hot with embarrassment at the words sliding from Ardyn’s lips, but before he can say anything Ardyn mercifully drops his hand and leans back and out of Prompto’s space. “But is he?” Ardyn asks. “Actually perfect, I mean. You know, I’d really like your expert eye to have a look.” At that Prompto closes his eyes and tries to steady his breathing and his heart but they snap open again when he hears a soft little sound come from the thing in Ardyn’s grip.

“Look at _that_ ,” Ardyn breathes, one big hand cupping its face. He slowly, gently trails his fingers down its cheek, thumb brushing the freckles sprinkled across its nose. When his thumb reaches its lips, they part obediently and Ardyn pushes in. He turns to Prompto with a sparkling smile. “What a delightful little thing he is, isn’t he?” Prompto tightens inside and he doesn’t know what to do. It feels like a violation, but whose? It’s not _his_ lips sucking gently on Ardyn, but… whose even are they? This thing, does it, can it... ? 

“Stop,” Prompto says, and it wrecks him to hear how weak it sounds. 

“Jealous, love?” Ardyn asks, and Prompto would trade anything to be able to summon his gun right now. Words, though. He has words.

“Jealous, yeah, sure. Well, so far your little robo bro over there is failing the certified Prompto test, because if that really was my face you were messing with, I’d have bit your stupid fingers off already,” Prompto tries. Ardyn laughs like he’s having just the best time ever.

“Of course, of _course_ , darling,” he says distractedly. He’s slid behind the thing now, and is running his hands up and down its arms. Prompto feels whispering little shivers down his own and it doesn’t make sense and he’s scared out of his mind. “How about these arms, eh?” Ardyn asks with a smile in his voice. “Up to your exacting standards, Prompto?” He leans forward and whispers into the ear of the one in front of him. “Why don’t you give our friend here a ticket to the, _aha_ , gun show, as it were.” His Prompto gives its obsequious little smile again, a look Prompto’s sure’s never been on his own, real face before. It flexes its biceps and Ardyn reaches up for a squeeze while he gives Prompto a facetious little smoulder and goes _ooh_. Prompto summons his courage again because he knows that’s what the others would need from him right now.

“Well my dude, I am _really_ glad to see you having so much fun, and it looks to me like your hands are pretty much full, actually, so, uh. If you wanna just…?” he motions upwards to his shackled wrists with his eyes and eyebrows, about the only parts he has freedom left to move. 

“Oh, and now he’s feeling left _out_ !” Ardyn says to his Prompto, like he’s just brought shame down upon his family. “Well, we can’t have that now, can we?” Prompto flinches away like it’s his shirt Ardyn’s hands are wandering up, like it’s _his_ chest that his hands are very clearly exploring. But it isn’t. Ardyn slowly pulls the thing’s shirt right off then, leaving its torso pale in the light of their tiny room. 

“Lovely,” Ardyn remarks breathlessly, as his eyes devour what’s in front of him. “Absolutely lovely.” He takes a second to slide toward Prompto and make a show of surreptitiously lifting Prompto’s shirt to peek under it. He drops it as Prompto lets out a growl or a cry of indignance and shame. “ _Exactly_ the same, my dear!” Ardyn says as he backs away from Prompto again. “My word, what hard work you must have put into that body of yours,” he says appreciatively, as his fingertips gently brush against the thing. Prompto can see it shiver. Does it feel like it’s getting hot in here? Prompto wonders. He can feel the prickling of sweat down at the roots of his hair.

“A lot of work,” Ardyn repeats absently, fingers still lightly stroking. “Yes, I suppose one’s simply not born with a body like this, mm?” he asks indulgently. Prompto feels his breath go fast. Ardyn seems to be talking a lot like a guy who knows a lot about Prompto. Like a guy who knew his kidnapped baby origins, his deepest darkest secret, and who maybe had info on him from every stage of his whole entire life. “Now,” Ardyn says, “we’re friends, aren’t we, Prompto?” Prompto never thought he’d have, like, a legit laugh in here, but there you go. Ardyn ignores him and continues. “You can tell me anything, can’t you?” Prompto rolls his eyes. “You can tell me who you worked _so hard_ to get _so cut_ for, can’t you?” Ardyn’s now unconsciously playing with the other Prompto’s chest and he can hear it mewl pathetically and scrunch its eyes closed and lean into his weight. He feels a little fire start to smoulder deep in his guts and he’s almost furious that he can’t imagine why.

“It’s for Gladio, isn’t it?” Ardyn begins. “Who _wouldn’t_ want to live up to that body? I do understand,” he says, consolingly. Ardyn’s behind the other Prompto again, and has his hands resting gently on its hips. 

“As _if_ ,” Prompto retorts, trying to redirect some of that fire. “Who cares what that big idiot thinks?” Prompto’s voice comes out a little shaky and it’s like he can hear every single time Gladio called him scrawny, or tiny, or how chicks don’t dig dudes without a little muscle. And it’s almost like he sees Gladio’s dismissive glare when he looks up through blurry eyes, but it’s just Ardyn there, Ardyn and that other horrible _him_. 

“Oh, well pardon me, pardon me,” Ardyn says in that infuriating voice. “Then Ignis, is it? A lot of pressure to look one’s best from that fine young gentleman, I’d imagine.” Ardyn slips his fingers beneath the clone’s waistband and Prompto’s fire grows as the thing clearly pushes back against the man behind it.

“Please,” Prompto says. “As if he doesn’t have about a billion things that are more important to think about than me.” It comes out nonchalant but Prompto is again blessed with another delightful jaunt down memory lane as he sees in front of him all those times Ignis has seen him not be fast enough, strong enough, smart enough. Good enough. All the times he’s seen him fail. He shuts his eyes tight but in the darkness the images remain.

“So it must be Noctis, then.” At that Prompto eyes snap open and he lets out an almost-scream, anger and frustration and pain fuel for his burning, his ache. 

“ _Don’t_ bring him into this, you don’t _get_ to say his name,” Prompto shouts, and Ardyn smiles, triumphant. 

“ _Da da da da da, da-da-da_ ,” he sings in his victory, and both of his hands have disappeared into the front of the other Prompto’s pants. Prompto can see them knead and squeeze.

“So,” Ardyn drawls, lazily. “Did it work?” His fingers have come out to unbutton and unzip the other Prompto’s pants. “Did your little prince get a taste?” Ardyn licks its neck. “After you became such a _snack_?” He bites, and it moans. Prompto’s eyes feel wet and at this point he can’t deny that he’s hard. 

“ _Not_ that it’s any of your business,” Prompto says, eyes damp and defiant. “But he has _—_ ” Prompto chokes as Lunafreya’s beautiful face, as it was before they lost her, is conjured by his mind. “ _—_ a prince has… duties and, and obligations _—_ ”

“ _Aww,_ you could never be his princess?” Ardyn asks, voice ripe with condescension. He chooses that moment to divest his Prompto of its pants, pooling around its ankles for a moment before it removes them along with its boots. Prompto wants to look away, but he doesn’t. “You poor sweet boy, and the others too…?” At the exact same time Prompto feels a tear start to drip down his cheek, and his dick twitch. “What a shame!” Ardyn laments. “Well, those boys clearly have other uses for you, if they’ve yet to take advantage of that particular one.” 

And of course they do, Prompto knows. He’s got, he’s got plenty of uses. He can point and shoot his gun, and he can point and shoot his camera, and, and _—_

When Prompto next looks up, weeping, it’s because Ardyn has pushed his Prompto right up to the cross, and reaches around him to once again tip up Prompto’s chin. This time his thumb is sweeping across the freckles of the real thing, wiping away hot tears. 

“Shh,” he whispers, with a voice that almost sounds kind. “There now, we’ll take care of you, won’t we?” he asks quietly, as he turns to the fake. “Why don’t you show him how he’s _loved_.” When the clone leans forward Prompto jerks his head away, so lips exactly like his own land on his damp cheek. 

“Ah ah ah,” Ardyn says, and Prompto’s round eyes widen when a red knife blinks into existence. Prompto doesn’t exactly have time to ruminate on the implications of this sorcery as the knife floats quickly towards his wrist. “I should very much like to have a little _fun_.” Prompto shuts his eyes and flinches and awaits the inevitable pain, but when he cracks an eye to look over all he sees is his wristband sliced open. Maybe there was never a ghostly red knife to begin with.

What there certainly is are some little black lines, the little black barcode branded against his skin. And around those lines is the faded, faintly burning remnant of what he did to himself that lonely night, partially healed by the potion but still angry and red. Prompto pulses with pain at everything it represents and then cries out like an animal that’s been hurt. The clone has its lips pressed against the lines that mark him a copy and a thing. Its tongue darts out to give it sweet little licks.

“Ah, there we are,” Ardyn says, still whispering. Prompto starts to sob. “Isn’t it just heavenly to be so loved?” Ardyn asks, as he wraps his fingers around one of the clone’s wrists and gently leads it down between Prompto’s legs. “And I see it’s finally started working!” he mutters to himself, but Prompto can’t think, can only whimper weakly as it slowly rubs his cock through his pants. He can’t flinch away, can’t bring his hands down to cover himself, can’t even turn his face away anymore as Ardyn grabs him by the hair to hold him steady as his double leans in again to press its lips to Prompto’s. It’s barely even a kiss; he can feel that Ardyn’s pressing his weight down on the clone which is in turn pressed against him. The clone’s just rubbing and slipping its soft lips against his own, tongue sliding out to lick between them, moaning into his mouth. He needs to roll his hips up against its hands but he can’t. His cock still jumps in his pants.

“What a sweet, needy little thing you are,” Ardyn whispers, voice gone hot and low. The clone’s lips move about his face, kissing his tears from his freckles. He moans into _its_ mouth now. It sucks on his tongue and grasps his cock but before it can ruin him any further Ardyn pulls it away.

“I want to show you something that I’m _certain_ you will love,” Ardyn sighs, to which Prompto can only moan traitorously. He pulls the clone so it’s leaning back against him, head on his shoulder, arms up and back and encircling Ardyn’s neck. Legs spread apart by one of his knees. Ardyn winds his arm up and around it and slips his fingers into its mouth. “This is how you look right now,” Ardyn says.

This is how Prompto looks? Eyes blown wide and dark and wet, lips pink and damp and swollen. Blush hot and red from the tips of his ears down his neck and chest. Spread and open and vulnerable and _wanting_. 

This is how he looks?

“Good, good, you see it now,” Ardyn says, encouraging him. He slowly draws his fingers out of the clone’s mouth and Prompto gasps as he pushes it forward, pushes it to its knees in front of him. “ _This_ ,” Ardyn says, “is how you’d look on your knees.” Prompto looks down into his own eyes, fucked out after just this. Ardyn reaches down to yank the clone’s head back, forcing its mouth open as it moans. Ardyn squats down beside it and whispers something inaudible in its ear. It reaches out to undo Prompto’s pants and drag them down along with the underwear beneath. Prompto’s whole body is singing as he’s held there, totally exposed, looking down upon himself.

“And this,” Ardyn whispers, “is how you’d look _with a cock in your mouth_.” Now perfectly on cue the other him slides its lips around him, giving him a sweet and gentle suck. “Beautiful,” Ardyn sighs. “Just beautiful.” Prompto screws his eyes shut tight because he has to. But suddenly Ardyn’s on his feet, and he backhands Prompto hard across the face.

“ _No_ ,” Ardyn sings, and Prompto’s teeth hurt. His eyes hurt. His whole being, his whole self is in agony, but the pleasure of the inferno between his legs threatens to burn it all to ash. He opens his eyes again and sees the clone cover his cock with tiny little licks, and then it pulls off fully to rub its face against it, kissing him elsewhere. Smiling like this is the sweetest pleasure in all the world. He sees its long wet eyelashes rest against its freckled cheek as the clone takes him deep into its throat. He’s sobbing as much as he’s moaning now. It doesn’t really register when Ardyn walks over to the side of the room and returns with a handful of something he coats the clone’s fingers in when he grabs its wrist. What does make it through is his clone’s hand slipping behind itself. His cock has slipped free from its mouth and whenever its hand moves from behind it pushes its face against him, mouth open and panting hard. 

Soon Ardyn moves to draw the clone up from the floor and press it between Prompto and himself. And Ardyn looks Prompto straight in the eye, never breaking contact as he presses harder and deeper against the clone and the clone cries out, long and loud.

“This is how you’d look stuffed full of cock,” Ardyn shares with him, matter-of-factly. He can feel Ardyn pull so very slowly out of the other him, and slide back in just as sweetly. With every dragging stroke the clone lets out a shuddering wail. “Listen to those sounds you make,” Ardyn continues. “That’s how you’ll sound with a cock in you.” Ardyn’s languid thrusting causes the clone to rub right up against him, their perfect matching pricks sliding together. And it’s like the other him can’t help it; it throws its arms around him and presses its lips to his again, moaning out its pleasure on him and against him and into him.

“ _Fffuck_ ,” Prompto lets out, unable to help himself either. “ _Fuck, fuck, fuck,_ ” he whispers rhythmically, in time with Ardyn’s every thrust. 

“There now, that’s a good boy,” Ardyn says, and Prompto doesn’t even give a fuck who he’s talking to anymore. He doesn’t even give a fuck.

Time is immaterial now, only the sweet press of his own body against his own body, only Ardyn’s thrusts which stay deep and slow but get harder and harder.

“Prompto, my boy,” he grits out, requiring some effort. “Would you like to see how you look when you’re filled up with my come?” The two Promptos cry together. He has his eyes on the thing for the entire experience. 

“Greedy thing,” Ardyn says, eyes on the face that’s Prompto’s. “Can’t get enough now, can you?” He pulls the clone’s head back for a kiss as he slowly draws himself out of it. “Your taste is exquisite,” he whispers, into its mouth. Once again their weak moans are echoes of the other’s. Suddenly the sounds from his lips come out shocked and hurt with disbelief. He no longer sees himself in the arms of Ardyn Izunia.

There’s two of him now.

“ _No_ ,” he manages to moan, for all the good that does. Because in front of him, there are two of him, hungry for each other, licking and rubbing, pressing hard against the other. His heart hurts from being given something he’s never wanted as he hears a laugh, a _giggle_ in his own voice and the two of them split apart to look at him. With matching grins they turn back for a moment and approach him, one dropping to its knees, the other pressing against his body, hot hand on his cock.

“There now,” he hears, his voice in his own ear, the timbre right but the words all wrong. “Now that’s lovely, isn’t it?” The hand on him is tight and insistent, pulling him quick and sure. Four hands on him, two mouths on him. Bodies warm and wet and rubbing. Heat and fire coursing through his body, needing an escape, an exit. His own hand pulls it from him, pulls it out and onto his own face below him. 

He looks down at that face, thick hot come dripping over its freckles, down its cheeks. Glistening on the big smile on its swollen pink lips. Pooled on the tongue that slides out to lick it up. The new him motions down to it with a nod of its head.

“That’s how you’ll look,” is all that it says. Prompto’s cry is swallowed by it. When it pulls away, Prompto’s lips try to follow, but his bonds keep him tied tight. The new him steps fully back and it’s Ardyn again. Not him, just Ardyn.

“Now, don’t you feel that much better?” Ardyn asks. “I know I do,” he says with a laugh. “How _wonderful_ it is to use these hands to _heal_ again! To help life grow, not to snuff it out! Wouldn’t you say, Prompto?” When he looks over he sees Prompto, the genuine article, looking down at the crumpled body below him. 

How does it look? Filthy, Prompto thinks. Used. Defiled. That’s how it looks, he thinks, as the thing smiles and smiles. 

“Oh come now, Prompto, you sentimental thing!” Ardyn chides. “You can’t truly feel bad for it, can you?” Ardyn draws it up into his arms, and turns to leave the cell. “After all, it’s only a doll, really.”

And he stalks out into the darkness of the keep.

***

_“Tell me,” Prompto asks him. “Were you worried about me?”_

_“Of course I was!” Noct replies. “What kind of question is that?”_

_“Of course. That’s… why you came. Like I believed you would.”_

_“Prompto…” Noctis breathes._

_“That’s why I told myself I couldn’t die. Not until I could see you. And hear you tell me I’m not a fake. That I’m the real me.”_


End file.
